


The Night of the Resignation

by rainbowgoddess



Category: Wild Wild West (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-10
Updated: 2011-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-20 07:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowgoddess/pseuds/rainbowgoddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Artie decides to leave the Secret Service because he can no longer bear to see Jim with women. Before he can submit his resignation, the two agents get a case that will change their relationship for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night of the Resignation

Jim let himself into the Wanderer after an enjoyable evening with an attractive woman. He'd had a good time, as he usually did when in the company of a beautiful woman, but he'd found himself missing Artie. His partner had chosen not to join them that evening, and he hadn't bothered to give a reason.

Lately, Jim had been somewhat concerned about Artie. Artie hadn't wanted to go out for meals or drinks, with or without female companionship. He'd been quiet and withdrawn, not his usual outgoing self.

Some pieces of paper were in the wastebasket, papers that hadn't been there when Jim left. Curiosity impelled Jim to see what they were. Probably nothing, but as far as Jim knew, Artie didn't have anything to work on at the moment.

Most of the papers were covered in crossed-out words and corrections, and the ink on several of them was smudged. Jim had to read several of them before he realized what Artie had been trying to write. And judging by the sealed envelope on the desk, he had finally written a satisfactory copy.

It was a resignation letter.

Jim was stunned. He knew that Artie had seemed unhappy lately, but he hadn't realized that Artie was unhappy with the Service. He couldn't imagine the Secret Service without Artie. Artie was his partner, and more than that, his friend. They were a team. They worked well together — more than well. And they enjoyed each other's company. What would he do without Artie?

In examining the letters he'd found in the wastebasket, Jim noticed several damp spots on the papers, and the ink was smudged in several places, as if something wet had fallen on the paper.

Tears. The damp spots were from tears. Artie had been crying when he'd written these letters.

Jim poured himself a drink and sat down with the letters spread in front of him. He wanted to go wake Artie and demand to know why his friend hadn't discussed this with him, why Artie had decided to resign without talking it over with him first. This was a decision that would affect both of them, after all. But he didn't know what he would say. He'd have to think about it for a while, and hope he had something to say when Artie did wake up.

Earlier....

Artemus Gordon watched his partner leave the Wanderer to go out with yet another woman. He supposed he couldn't fault Jim for wanting to spend the evening in the company of a beautiful woman. Jim didn't know how Artie felt, and Artie wasn't about to tell him.

The two of them had been through yet another near-death experience. They'd been separated for quite some time, and neither had known if the other was even alive. But when they'd finally been reunited, Jim had ignored Artie in favour of the attractive young woman who'd betrayed her employer to release them. Okay, Jim was grateful to her, but still....

All Artie had wanted was some acknowledgment that Jim was pleased to see him, was happy that he was all right. A hug, a touch, a look — something. God knew how much he'd wanted to throw his arms around Jim in sheer relief that his partner was alive and unharmed. But Jim had been more interested in the woman than in his partner and supposed best friend.

It wasn't unusual for Jim to be interested in women. It was very common. Perhaps it was too common. This was what had made Artie decide that it was time to resign from the service. He could no longer bear to see Jim with women. But he also couldn't imagine continuing in the service with a different partner. He didn't think he could trust another partner the way he trusted Jim. And if he stayed in the Secret Service, there was always the chance he'd run into Jim on occasion. As much as he hated to see Jim with women, he'd hate even more to see Jim with another partner.

Having come to a decision, Artie pulled out some paper and a pen from the desk and sat down to write his resignation letter. He had to restart it several times when his tears smudged the ink on the pages or when he changed his mind about wording.

He supposed he'd have to give a reason for resigning. He thought about that for a long time before finally deciding on "personal reasons." That was true, as far as it went. "I'm in love with my partner," wasn't exactly the kind of thing you told the Secret Service.

It was around midnight when Artie finally finished the resignation letter. He glanced at the clock and noted that Jim was not back yet. Probably a good thing, he decided. He'd have to talk to Jim eventually, but he didn't know how he was going to explain his decision to someone who knew him as well as his partner did. He could at least put it off until morning. Maybe inspiration would come to him overnight.

The next morning....

Jim sat and waited for Artie to wake up and tried to decide whether or not to confront him right away or wait for him to bring up the subject of his resignation himself. He still hadn't been able to figure out any reason Artie would want to leave the Secret Service, which must mean that his partner was keeping something from him. Had he done something to hurt Artie?

Thinking back to their most recent assignment, Jim remembered how he had felt when he hadn't known if Artie was still alive, and the joy and relief he'd felt when they'd been reunited. He'd wanted to grab his partner, hold on to him and not let go, not let Artie out of his sight again, ever. But he'd refrained from even touching Artie, afraid that his body would respond to Artie's closeness in too noticeable a way. So he had focused his attention on their attractive female rescuer instead. If his body did show any telltale signs of arousal, it would appear to be in response to her.

But Jim had seen the look in Artie's eyes, the look he'd obviously tried to hide. Artie had been hurt, Jim realized. By trying to hide his feelings for Artie, Jim had hurt him. Was that enough to make Artie want to leave the Secret Service?

Another thought occurred to Jim. What if Artie already knew how Jim secretly felt about him? Could that be the reason for Artie's resignation?

When Artie got out of bed, he still hadn't decided what to say to Jim about his resignation. When he saw Jim sitting with the rough drafts of his letters spread out on the table, he realized he wouldn't have to bring up the subject himself. Apparently Jim had decided to raid the wastebasket.

"Want to explain this to me, Artie?" Jim asked, trying to sound casual and not betray his roiling emotions.

"That's my resignation. I'm leaving the Secret Service, " Artie replied in an equally casual tone.

"But why? You never told me you were planning to quit. How long have you known?" Jim couldn't quite hide the hurt in his voice.

"I've been thinking about it for awhile, but I only came to a decision last night."

"You couldn't talk to me about it?" Jim asked.

"It's personal, Jim."

"We talk about personal things all the time, Artie. That's what friends do. What could be so personal that we can't talk about it?"

Artie couldn't answer that question without giving himself away. Fortunately, he was saved from having to say anything by the telegraph suddenly starting up. He immediately went to transcribe the message. "Looks like we have an assignment," he commented.

Jim was frustrated that their conversation had been interrupted, but he hoped that the new assignment, and the fact that Artie had said 'we,' meant that Artie wasn't going to submit his resignation quite yet. Maybe he still had time to talk his partner out of it.

"'We'?" Jim asked. "As in both of us?"

Artie sighed. "Yes, both of us. I haven't submitted my resignation yet, and the message was quite urgent. So I guess we have one last job together." He handed Jim the paper on which he'd transcribed the message.

"It doesn't have to be the last," Jim suggested as he took the paper.

"Yes, it does," Artie stated, his tone of voice saying to drop the subject.

After reading the message, Jim sat next to Artie on the couch while they planned how they were going to handle their latest mission. Another power-hungry madman for them to deal with, a man by the name of Harper. At first everyone had thought that Harper was simply a defeated politician who had lost a bid to become mayor of the town of Silver Spring. That was until the man had led an armed insurrection. He was now effectively holding the entire town hostage. He had a stash of explosives, or so he claimed; no one knew where these explosives were, or even if they existed. But no one wanted to find out the hard way that they did.

Jim and Artie's assignment was to infiltrate Harper's militia and find a way to bring him down, and to find the explosives — if they existed — and defuse them. The two agents decided that Jim would infiltrate the militia, while Artie would try to find the explosives.

It was Jim's misfortune that once Harper had welcomed him into his army, one of the other "soldiers," a petty criminal named Stevens that he and Artie had put away some years before, recognized Jim as a Secret Service agent and told Harper that where James West went, Artemus Gordon couldn't be far behind. Harper immediately ordered Stevens to take some men to hunt down and dispose of Artie. He then had Jim locked up in a cell. He didn't want to kill James immediately; first, he wanted to find out what he knew. And get his men some practice at torture. Having Artie killed would be part of the torture, Harper decided.

Jim tried not to worry too much about his partner. After all, Artie would have arrived in town in one of his many disguises; Stevens wouldn't recognize him. And Artie was certainly capable of taking care of himself. Jim didn't need to worry.

So why was he so worried?

On the outskirts of town, Artie carefully maneuvered his way past the armed militiamen who were stationed to prevent anyone from leaving town. It wasn't too difficult; he figured that since the men were supposed to stop people leaving, they wouldn't pay much attention to someone arriving.

Artemus also figured that most people weren't going to want to enter Silver Spring when the town was under threat of being blown up. Therefore, he had to disguise himself accordingly. He dressed as a homeless drifter, acting completely ignorant of the news about the explosives and militia. However, he also had a job to do: find out whether the explosives existed, and if so, where they were hidden. He headed for the nearest saloon, where he found a handful of men trying to gain some liquid courage.

After sitting down at the bar and ordering a drink, Artie spoke up loudly: "So what in the name of all that's holy is going on in this town? Where'd all those armed men come from?"

Someone filled him in on the news about the election, Harper, and the militia.

"So why don't you just rise up and take your town back?" Artie demanded.

Another man broke the news about the explosives.

"Are you sure this guy has explosives? Have any of you seen them?" Artie tried to keep his tone that of a town drunkard so as not to raise suspicion from any militiamen that might be nearby. The militiamen wore plain clothes, not uniforms; one or more of them could even be in this saloon.

Most of the men in the saloon admitted to not having seen the explosives, or indeed any evidence of them. One young man, however, didn't speak. He stared into his drink and seemed to be trying to ignore the other men in the saloon. The other men ignored him right back.

Artie noticed this, and spoke up even louder. "Well, how d'you know there even are explosives, then? Sounds like this Harper fella has all of you afraid of your own shadows! I'm not a betting man, but I'd wager there are no explosives — not even a stick of dynamite!"

The other occupants of the saloon started to mumble among themselves. What if there really were no explosives? Was Harper having them on? Was he threatening them with something that didn't even exist?

The silent man finally got to his feet. "Mister," he said to Artie, "the explosives are very real. I've seen them. I'll take you to them. I'll show you. Then you can come back and tell all these people that the explosives are very much real."

Artie could hardly believe his luck. He quickly agreed to follow the young man to where the explosives were stashed. He paid for his drink. "All right, my friend," he said "Take me to your bombs."

The young man escorted Artie to what appeared from the outside to be an ordinary livery stable. But instead of being filled with horses, it was filled with explosives — dynamite, mostly, wired together. Artie realized that he wouldn't necessarily have to defuse the material, just dispose of it.

"Satisfied?" the man asked.

"Most definitely," Artie replied. "How did you find out they were here?"

"I followed some of Harper's men one evening when I was bored," he said with a shrug.

"Do you make it a habit of following armed militiamen around?" Artie asked.

The young man looked around before he spoke again. "Look, Mister, who are you really?"

"Pardon me?" Artie asked in surprise.

"I don't think you're really some wandering drunk. Anyone in his right mind, even a drunk, wouldn't come anywhere near this place." He hesitated. "People don't pay much attention to me. I have a bum leg" — Artie had seen his limp — "and I wasn't able to fight in the war. And I'm pretty quiet. But I hear things. I pay attention. Nobody notices me, but I notice them.

"I was able to hang around Harper's headquarters without being seen, and I was able to follow the men to where the explosives were hidden. I also heard the men talking, and they said that a couple of Secret Service agents came into town. Seems one of them recognized the agents; he'd seen them before. One of the agents was captured. But I heard that the other one was pretty good at disguises. Would that be you?"

"Guilty as charged." Artie didn't see any reason to argue. He could use an ally, especially if Jim had been captured. This young man could show him where Harper was keeping Jim. He was concerned, hearing that Jim had been captured, but the dynamite had to be his priority. Jim could take care of himself for the time being, Artie hoped. He held out his hand. "Artemus Gordon."

"Jack Todd," his new friend said, accepting the hand. "So what happens next? What can we do with this stuff?"

"You don't need to do anything, Jack. I'm the federal agent. You're a civilian."

"I want to do something. I might be a cripple, but my mind still works, and so do my hands. And it looks like you could use the help." Suddenly he lifted his head. "Someone's coming. Hide!"

The two of them dove into an adjoining stall. Sure enough, a group of militiamen, led by Stevens, whom Artie recognized, arrived in the stable.

"Looks like Gordon hasn't been here yet," Stevens said to his men.

Artie covered his face with a handkerchief and handed another one to Jack. "Put this over your nose and mouth," he whispered. Then he stepped out from his hiding place. "Surprise!" he announced, before pulling out his knockout gas and making short work of Stevens and his men.

The gas dissipated quickly, and Artie and Jack were able to remove their handkerchiefs and set about taking the piles of dynamite apart. "How long before they wake up?" Jack wanted to know.

"A couple of hours at least," Artie answered.

"What do we do with the dynamite once we have it all taken apart?" Jack asked Artie.

"Good question," Artie sighed. "I wasn't really expecting this kind of setup. The way it was described to me, I thought it was a bomb or a series of bombs that I could defuse and render harmless. I'm going to actually have to take all this dynamite back to the train — but how?"

"I can get a wagon," Jack replied. "Would that help?"

"Jack, my boy, you are a miracle worker," Artie replied."I'll finish up here while you get the wagon. You won't get into any trouble, will you?" he asked in concern. He didn't want this young man to be hurt doing what wasn't even his job.

"I'll be okay. Like I said, people don't usually notice me."

As Jack headed off, Artie went back to untangling the wires that connected the sticks of dynamite. As he was doing so, he cut himself. The cut didn't seem too serious, but it bled all over his jacket. He wiped up the blood with his handkerchief as well as he could, then decided that he may as well dispose of the jacket. He didn't need it. He stuffed the handkerchief into the jacket pocket and tossed the jacket aside.

Some time after Artie and Jack had loaded the dynamite in the wagon and driven off, Stevens and his men woke up. "What happened?" one of them asked.

"Gordon's some sort of chemist," Stevens said. "He experiments with different kinds of gases. He must have used one of those gases on us."

"Great," said another henchman. "What are we going to tell Harper?"

Stevens spied the bloodstained jacket lying on the floor. "Looks like Gordon was hurt. We'll tell Harper we killed him, and use the jacket for evidence. If he asks what we did with the body, tell him we shoved it down a mine shaft."

"How do we prove the jacket belongs to Gordon?" asked the henchman.

Stevens was stumped for a moment; then he found the handkerchief. "It's monogrammed: AG. That should be proof enough both for Harper, and for Gordon's partner."

Back at Harper's headquarters....

Stevens produced the jacket and handkerchief as evidence that he'd killed Artemus Gordon. Harper had one of his men retrieve Jim from his cell, where he was recovering from yet another beating inflicted by Harper's militiamen.

"Mr. West, I have news for you." He produced the jacket. "Your partner, Mr. Gordon, has been taken care of. You don't need to wait for him to rescue you any longer."

Jim's heart leaped into his throat. "I don't believe you. That jacket could belong to anyone." But he knew that the jacket belonged to Artie. He'd seen Artie put it on that morning.

Harper pulled the bloodstained handkerchief from the pocket. "How about this, then? See the initials on it." He handed the handkerchief to Jim.

Jim recognized it immediately. He knew the monogram. It was Artie's, no mistake. So it was true. They'd killed Artie — his partner, his friend, the one that he loved.

With a cry of rage, Jim threw himself at Stevens. But he was outnumbered, and was still recovering from his latest beating. He was quickly restrained.

"Put him back in his cell for now," Harper ordered. "We'll deal with him later. Have him shot at dawn, perhaps."

The pain of losing Artie was overwhelming. It threatened to engulf Jim. He thought of all the times he and Artie had saved each other from seemingly certain death. He thought of the time he'd seen a man he thought was Artie — a carefully disguised impostor — shot to death in front of his eyes. When he'd been reunited with the real, live Artie, he'd been so stunned he couldn't hug Artie, or touch him, or say anything other than "thank you," to Artie for once again saving his life.

He wished now he'd hugged Artie that time. He wished that he'd done so after their last case. Now he would never have the chance to even touch him, ever again.

Back at the Wanderer, Artie finished locking up the explosives in a special cupboard he'd designed for the purpose, and he took out a map. "Now, can you show me where Harper's headquarters are? I need to find Jim and see if he needs help."

Jack showed Artie how to find Harper's headquarters. It was a fairly long ride from the Wanderer, and Jack kept Artie talking the entire way, peppering him with questions about what it was like being a Secret Service agent. Artie was happy to talk about anything that would take his mind off Jim's being in danger, and the letter of resignation that was yet unsent. So he told Jack of some of his and Jim's wilder adventures — at least, the ones that weren't secret.

When they arrived at the militia headquarters, Jack showed Artie to the window at the back where he'd done his eavesdropping. "You know, Mr. Gordon, one of those men recognized your partner, so he'll for sure recognize you too. Maybe you shouldn't have got rid of your disguise."

"I don't need my disguise, Jack. Just watch." He pulled something out of his pocket.

"A pea shooter?" Jack asked in surprise.

"In a way. But the peas it shoots are very special." Artie shot three pellets through the window. "Now stand back."

The "peas" turned out to be more knockout gas. The men in the room were quickly overcome.

"Of course, anyone who wasn't in the room when the gas went off, we still have to deal with," Artie commented as he and Jack quietly sneaked into the building. Fortunately for them, they encountered no one on their way to the room where Jim was being held. They made short work of the guards — one for each of them.

Jim was sitting in the room that had been turned into his cell. Had it only been a single day that he'd been there? It seemed like a very long time. He alternated between rage and despair — rage against the men who had killed Artie and despair at knowing he was never going to see Artie again. He didn't even know what they had done with the body.

Jim fully intended to get revenge for Artie's death. Somehow. There were too many militiamen for him to deal with on his own, but if he could at least take out the men who had actually done the deed.... He would kill them, or die trying, just like he'd killed the _Pistolero_ who he'd thought had killed Artie.

Meanwhile....

"How are you going to unlock the door?" Jack asked Artie. "You got some sorta skeleton key hidden in your pockets somewhere?"

"I have all sorts of things in my pockets," Artie laughed. "And this is better than a skeleton key." He removed a very small amount of explosive putty, stuck it on the door and lit it. With a small explosion, the door was unlocked.

Artie coughed and waved the smoke away. "Jim! Are you in there?" he called.

Jim jumped up, instantly regretting the action because he was still sore from his most recent beating. He couldn't believe what he saw. There, standing in front of him, was Artemus Gordon.

How could this be possible? Artie was dead. Granted, he hadn't seen a body, but he'd seen the bloodstained jacket and handkerchief, and been told very bluntly that Artie was dead.

"Jim, are you all right? What's wrong?" Artie moved toward him, concern written all over his face.

"Artie? Is that really you?" Jim asked, a tremor in his voice.

"Of course it's me. Who were you expecting — President Grant?" Artie joked.

"I.... I don't know. It's just...." Jim's tongue seemed to not be working. He remembered on their last mission, when they'd been reunited after not knowing if Artie was safe, how he had wanted to take Artie into his arms, but had refrained because he'd been afraid of his body's reaction to holding Artie. But Artie was resigning, he reminded himself. It didn't matter now if Artie knew how Jim felt. "Artie, they told me you were dead!"

"And you believed them?" Artie asked in a gently admonishing tone. "Jim, these are the bad guys — remember? They lie about things."

Jim threw his arms around his partner and held on as tightly as he could, ignoring his protesting muscles.

Artie returned the embrace carefully. He'd noticed Jim's torn clothing and his bruises. He also noticed the tears soaking into his shirt. Jim was crying? He realized he'd never seen Jim cry before. He gently patted Jim's back with one hand and stroked his hair with the other. "It's all right, Jim. I'm here. I'm alive."

"Excuse me, Mr. Gordon," Jack interrupted, feeling a bit embarrassed. "The knockout gas isn't going to last forever. What are we going to do?"

Artie reluctantly extricated himself from Jim's arms. "Jim, this is my friend Jack. He helped me find the explosives. Jack, this is my partner, Jim West."

Jim and Jack exchanged brief nods of acknowledgment.

"Jack's right. What are we going to do about Mr. Harper's little militia? The knockout gas won't last indefinitely. There are only three of us, and you've obviously been hurt, Jim."

The three of them discussed their options before finally deciding that Jack would go back to town and bring back the sheriff and some of the town's men to take care of the militiamen. He'd also go to the telegraph office and contact the Secret Service on behalf of Jim and Artie, and ask them to send some people to take care of the situation.

For once, everything went according to plan, and it wasn't too long before the two agents were back at the Wanderer and able to relax.

Except that Jim couldn't relax. He kept remembering how he'd felt when he'd been told that Artie was dead, and how relieved he'd been when he'd seen Artie alive. He also remembered how it had felt to hold Artie in his arms and feel Artie touching him, reassuring him.

Maybe he couldn't change Artie's mind about resigning from the Service, but he couldn't let him go without saying something.

"Artie, we need to talk."

Artie sighed. He'd been hoping to avoid this. He didn't want to defend his decision to resign, because he didn't really have a defence. He couldn't tell the truth, but neither could he come up with a convincing lie. He supposed it was too much to hope that they would get another telegraph and another assignment to keep them from having this conversation.

"Why do we have to talk, Jim?"

"Because you still haven't told me why you're quitting."

"Do we have to do it now? In case you haven't noticed, it's been a long day, and you've been hurt. We both need some rest."

"I can't," Jim answered.

"Can't what?"

"Can't rest."

Artie got up and poured Jim a drink. "You were beaten pretty badly. It's no wonder you can't sleep. But a couple of good, stiff whiskeys should take care of the pain for at least a few hours."

Jim took the drink. He did need something for the pain. But more than a pain remedy, he needed to talk to his partner. "That's not what I meant. I mean I can't rest until you and I have talked about your resignation."

With his own drink in his hand, Artie sank back down on the couch. He'd been afraid of this. He'd never been very good at out-stubborning Jim. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine," Jim said as he sat next to him on the couch. "Then don't talk. Let me talk instead."

"Go right ahead." Artie was very surprised that Jim hadn't pursued his "personal" reasons, but he was relieved enough not to ask any questions.

This was going to be difficult. Jim wasn't used to talking about feelings; it wasn't something that men did. But he was afraid that if he didn't talk about his feelings, he would lose his partner for good.

"Artie, when those militiamen said that they'd killed you, it wasn't the first time I'd believed you to be dead. There was the time that Dr. Loveless drugged me to make me think I'd killed you myself, and there was the time I thought that the _Pistoleros_ had shot you. And there have been other times when we have been separated, and I didn't know if you were alive or dead. Yet each of those times, I've got you back somehow. But I never told you how I felt when I thought you were gone.

"Believing that you were dead hurt me so much I thought I would die too. Losing you would be like losing part of myself. But you're leaving, so I'm still losing you. You mean too much to me to let you go without a fight."

"I don't know what to say, Jim."

"Say that you won't leave." Jim was practically begging, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he would do almost anything to prevent Artie leaving.

"I have to leave. I can't be partners with you anymore." He hated to say it, but it was true. No matter what Jim was saying right now, Artie knew that women would always come first in Jim's life. Jim might sincerely mean what he had just said, but the next time a woman came along, Jim would forget his partner even existed.

Jim couldn't have felt worse if Artie had struck him. In fact, he felt as if Artie had struck him. "But.... Why?"

"Can't you leave it, Jim?" Now it was Artie who was almost begging. He didn't want to say any more. "Can't you let it go — please?"

"No. No, I can't leave it. My partner is telling me that he can't be my partner anymore. I need to know why that is. Whatever it is that I've done, I'm sorry for it. If it's something I can change, I will. I'll do whatever you want me to do, if it means you'll stay."

Artie shook his head. "What I want, Jim, is something I can never have. I can't ask it of you."

"Try me." Jim was determined to do everything in his power to keep Artie with him.

Another head shake from Artie. "No."

Jim couldn't think of anything else to say. He decided that the time for words was past, and that now he needed action. He reached over and turned Artie towards him. "Look at me, Artie. Look at me." When his partner was facing him, Jim could see the pain, the doubt and the fear in the other man's expression. He knew that somehow, he was the cause of those feelings. He didn't know how, but he was determined to do something about it.

So he kissed Artie.

He could feel Artie's stunned reaction to the kiss. Obviously, he hadn't expected it — not surprising — but after a very brief hesitation, he returned it. Then he seemed to reconsider, and he pushed his partner away.

"What did you do that for?" Artie asked.

Jim shrugged. "I do better with actions than with words."

"But why did you kiss me? What were you trying to tell me with that particular 'action'?" This was not something he could have ever foreseen James West doing in a million years or more. Not that he hadn't imagined it, fantasized about it, but he'd never actually thought it would happen.

At least Artie hadn't actually objected to the kiss, other than pushing him away, Jim thought to himself. "How much I care about you. How much I love you."

For once, Artemus Gordon was at a complete loss for words. He couldn't possibly have heard Jim say he loved him — could he? He remembered the way Jim had thrown his arms around him earlier that day, Jim's tears when he'd said that he had thought Artie had been killed. He wondered if Jim would have said anything else if they hadn't been interrupted at that particular moment.

But there were still the women. Artie had seen Jim with more women than he cared to remember. Then again, he himself had been with more than few women in the time he'd been partners with Jim. "Jim, forgive me if I find this more than a bit surprising. I mean, you have to admit you have a reputation with women. There have been a few times, especially lately, when I've had the impression you prefer the companionship of women, even ones you've just met, to my own companionship."

Now Jim was beginning to understand. Artie thought Jim preferred women to him. That had been his mistake. In trying to cover up his feelings for his partner, Jim had hurt him. He remembered the last case they'd had before this one, the one that had led up to Artie's resignation letter. Jim had made a show of gratitude to the woman who had rescued them, and he hadn't allowed himself to show his relief that Artie was still alive. He'd barely even looked at Artie. He hadn't realized how much that had hurt his partner.

Jim explained how he had been trying to cover up his feelings for Artie by throwing himself at women, how he'd been afraid that if he dared to even touch Artie, his body would betray him. How he'd been afraid that Artie would leave him if he found out. How he regretted not risking it anyway, because he'd hurt Artie, which was the last thing he would ever want to do. "Is that why you're quitting, Artie? Because I hurt you?"

"Oh, Jim," Artie sighed. "That's not it, or at least, not all of it. I wrote that resignation letter because I couldn't bear to see you with any more women. I couldn't keep watching you ignore me in favour of the latest pretty girl to catch your eye. I wanted you to look at me like you looked at all those women, but I knew I couldn't have that."

"Why didn't you just ask for another partner, then?" Jim asked. "Why did you decide to resign?"

"Because I also couldn't bear to see you with another partner. If I stayed in the service, I was bound to run into you eventually — you and whoever they gave you for a new partner." He smiled for the first time since they'd returned to the Wanderer. "I'm rather possessive of you, you see."

Jim was very pleased to see that smile. He hoped it meant that the 'old' Artie was back. "Artie, will you answer a question for me?"

"Depends what the question is."

"I told you that I love you. Do you love me?" He hoped that what Artie had just said meant that Artie did love him, but he couldn't be sure. He needed to hear Artie actually say those words.

The fearful look was back in Artie's eyes again, and Jim hated to see it there. He didn't know if he was responsible for it, or if someone or something else was, but he hoped Artie would give him the chance to banish that fear.

Artie wanted to tell Jim the truth, but it scared him. Once he admitted that he really was in love with Jim West, there would be no taking it back. He knew he could trust Jim with his life, but could he trust Jim with his heart? How would it change their relationship? But their relationship had already been changed, he realized; he just didn't know if it was for better or for worse.

He looked into Jim's eyes, and there he saw his answer. He saw Jim's love for him. He saw his own fear reflected in Jim's eyes as Jim waited for his answer. He realized that he'd been selfish. He'd been thinking only of himself, and not thinking of Jim at all. It couldn't have been easy for Jim to admit his own feelings. Artie reached across the small space between them on the couch and took Jim's hand in his. "Of course I love you, Jim. I can't imagine not loving you. I'm just sorry it took me so long to admit it, both to myself and to you."

Jim pulled his partner into his arms and held him tightly. "Thank God," he sighed. "I wanted to believe it, but I had to hear it. I had to hear you say it. I was afraid you were going to leave because you knew how I felt about you, and you didn't feel the same way."

Pulling back a little, Artie looked into his friend's eyes, pleased to see that the fear was no longer there. "I was leaving because I thought you didn't feel the same way I did. I couldn't bear to see you with any more women. It was tearing my heart out every time I saw you with someone who wasn't me."

"You don't ever have to see that again. From now on, you're the only one in my life. And you're definitely the only one I'll do this to." And he kissed Artie again.

This time Artie didn't hesitate in returning the kiss. He didn't push his partner away. Instead, he surrendered completely to the man who was holding him.

They continued kissing and touching each other for some time, until Jim finally suggested, "Why don't we move this to the bedroom?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Artie replied. Then he hesitated. "But you were hurt today — quite badly, as I seem to recall. Are you sure you're up to it?"

Jim took Artie's hand and moved it to the front of his trousers. "Definitely."

"I don't want to hurt you," Artie protested. "Maybe we should wait a little while. We don't have to rush into anything. We have lots of time. I'm not going anywhere — I'll tear up the resignation letter — and I hope you're not, either."

"What if we don't have lots of time?" Jim asked. "With everything that we've been through, it's amazing both of us are still in one piece. I've seen you die, Artie — when Loveless drugged me; in Colonel Vautrain's time-travel experiment; when the _Pistoleros _shot your duplicate — and each time, I've got you back, thank God, but I'm always afraid that one of these days, I won't get you back."__

Artie remembered those times. He remembered the look in Jim's eyes when Loveless had brainwashed Jim into thinking he'd killed him, the stunned look when Jim had seen him come back from the 'dead,' the way Jim had held him in his arms when he'd been shot during Vautrain's time-travel scenario. He realized that Jim had been showing his love all those times, and that he'd been too blind to see it.

"Tell you what," Artie said, putting an arm around Jim's shoulders. "How about tonight we just sleep together, and tomorrow, depending on how you're feeling, I will show you my love physically in every way you can possibly imagine."

"I will hold you to that," Jim said as he stood and offered Artie his hand. As they headed to the bedroom, Jim added, "And, Artie?"

"Yes, Jim?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, partner."

END


End file.
